


Heaven's Steps

by starespressos



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bonfires, Dean/Cas Reverse Bang 2019, Drama, Eating by the Campfire, Falling in a Love, Fantasy elements, First Kiss, Loneliness, M/M, Meditation, Quests, Religious Discussion, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Religious Themes, Sleeping in a Tent, Temporary Character Death, Temporary Character Disappearance lol, The Great Blue In Magenta Out Practice, falling in a river, not in Kansas anymore
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-17
Updated: 2019-06-17
Packaged: 2020-05-13 16:55:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 20,672
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19255318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starespressos/pseuds/starespressos
Summary: Castiel wants to complete his important task alone... Until he doesn't.It might have something to do with the man who fell from the sky.





	1. Been On This Road So Long

**Author's Note:**

> So, reverse bang!
> 
> First things first, art made by the amazing [Aceriee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aceriee). Can't believe we finally did something together! Your art has always inspired me and I'm so happy I got you as my companion for this quest! Art masterpost [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19230373)
> 
> Secondly, a tremendous thank you to [Shannon_Kind](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shannon_Kind) for taking me under your wing, for being kind, for letting me write my story. Thank you for listening, and for understanding, and for teaching me cool stuff about language. 
> 
> Extra-special thanks to [casbean](https://archiveofourown.org/users/casbean) again, as well. I feel I've found my chaotic nihilist family in you. Thanks for not letting me quit.
> 
> [Playlist](https://open.spotify.com/user/1167963412/playlist/74X1G8NVRwocyZ7mD5L5bV?si=fjOMQrV_RMy_jyvJANw2OQ) includes "Rakastettu" by Juha Tapio that mentions the religious item I have written here. Can't take all credit for that.

At first, Castiel’s not sure if he even heard anything. He straightens in the water, allowing his ears to rise above the surface. It’s calm in the clearing, a summer morning breeze sways the treetops around the pond he’s currently mostly submerged in. He turns all the way around to see if there’s something he should worry about, but everything is just as picturesque as it was before.

With a relieved sigh, Castiel lets his whole body float again. Every joint in his body needs the comfort of water right now; he’s been traveling all night after a good scare from a bear kept him from falling asleep. He needs a nap, probably, but it’s not likely he’s going to set up camp this early.

Suddenly, he opens his eyes and frowns at the open sky. When he’d looked around a minute ago, he’d seen nothing out of the ordinary – but since when has he had _two_ piles of clothes on the shore?

He lifts his head, letting his body turn vertical again and sure enough, there’s another clothes pile laying on the ground only a couple of feet away from his. He lowers his mouth below the water, as if that would make him invisible in the open water, and he blows nervous bubbles from between his lips as he starts gliding towards the strange pile.

He’s only a couple of strokes away from the shore when he realizes that the shoe soles that he’s staring at are still attached to a person. A person who seemingly dropped out of nowhere, is likely unconscious, has a gun in their hand, and scares Castiel half to death. Not many people this far east; most only travel to Europa, the town Castiel left behind three days ago. Maybe someone on a pilgrimage?

He silently lifts himself on a rock, cursing the splatters of water that ripple off his skin and make sounds against the surface of the pond. Scooting closer, he takes in the body – it’s a man of his age, his eyes closed and his chest slowly rising and falling. He’s wearing way too many items of clothing for a summer morning in Etherfare, a leather jacket with a long-sleeved shirt underneath, with some worn jeans and combat boots that could be good for traveling but even more so for kicking someone in the jaw. He looks odd--from his dusty hair to his ankle where the fabric has ripped, revealing a scratch, and Castiel idly wonders whether he’s been in a battle recently. He certainly looks the part.

 

 

Looking around, Castiel realizes there’s only his footprints in the misty grass, and he rethinks the sound he heard back in the water. It did sound and awful lot like something dropping to the ground, but – he glances up, squinting at the brightness of the sky – where could a person fall from? A plane? A paraglider? A—

A huff of breath halts his line of thought and he looks back at the man. His eyes are open now, what a peculiar shade of green, and he’s looking at Castiel with a slight frown before letting his gaze drop from his face and to his body. His frown deepens.

How odd of this man to be alive after falling from the sky.

“Dude, you’re naked.”

Castiel tilts his head before looking down. Oh! That’s right. He’d been swimming.

“That is correct.”

“Could you, I don’t know, not be?”

Castiel shrugs and rises from his squat to walk back to his clothes pile. How mundane. A man falls from the heavens and instantly wants him to get dressed. You’d think he’d have other things to worry about right now – such as why he fell and where he came from.

Castiel puts on his pants and a shirt, opting against the shoes until later, and turns back around. The man is sitting now, rolling the wrist of the hand he’s still holding the gun in.

“Does it hurt?”

“Yeah, I sprained my –” He closes his mouth with a snap. “Where the hell am I?”

“Elysian forests,” Castiel replies. “A couple of days away from Europa.”

“Uh, which state is that in?”

“State?”

“Wait,” the man shakes his head, presses his thumb and his index finger over his eyes and sighs. It sounds desperate. “Please don’t tell me we’re not in the US.”

United States of America, that’s right. Castiel wonders why he didn’t instantly think of that… His mind was going for emotional states first.

“Okay,” he says anyway, sitting down to dig some rice cakes from his backpack. “I won’t.”

The man snorts. “Aren’t you being clever?”

“Rather clever than rude,” Castiel replies, lifting an eyebrow. He watches the man get on his feet and dust himself off before looking around the clearing.

“So, which way did I come from?”

Castiel leaves the rice cake between his lips to point up with both his hands. The man follows the gesture, gazing at the sky with his mouth open.

“That doesn’t make sense.”

“You don’t need to tell me. I was swimming and you fell from the sky. No, wait. You aren’t a star, are you?”

He frowns. “A star? As in an actual celestial orb thing? No, for fuck’s sake, I’m not a star.”

Castiel shrugs and continues eating. The man looks at his food with a flash of envy in his eyes – oh, so now he’s hungry. Castiel squints and bites a piece off the cake, daring him to come try.

He doesn’t. Instead, he starts walking around the clearing, circling the pond and looking for a way out; there are several, of course, but he doesn’t seem to recognize any of them. Castiel sees the moment the man starts to realize he’s utterly lost, and wonders what he’ll do next. As for himself, he finishes his late breakfast with an apple he stole from someone’s garden before coming here. It tastes as delicious as a purchased one would, and Castiel briefly wonders whether he would be able to live off other people’s land until he reaches his destination.

“So,” the man says eventually, looking down at Castiel’s backpack and then, for some reason, his shoes. “It looks like I’m not in Kansas anymore.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Castiel answers dryly.

“It’s a reference to – shit, never mind. You have any idea where the nearest train station is?”

“Fourteen days west, give or take,” he says, gesturing towards the spot that heads west from the clearing. “Depends on how fast you walk. It only takes you to Sydney, though.”

“Sydney, Australia?”

“No… Sydney, the country.”

The man crosses his arms, switches weight from one foot to the other, and bites his lip. His nervousness is a little annoying.

“I don’t know what’s going on, here,” he eventually says. “I’ve never heard of a country called Sydney or a town called Europa. Is Europa located in Sydney?”

“No, this country is Etherfare.”

He sighs, defeated. “Or that, for that matter. How is it possible I’ve never heard of these places? I travel. And by traveling I mean, I travel a lot.”

“I do fail to see how that’s my issue,” Castiel snaps. He packs the rest of his stuff away and turns towards his shoes to pull them back on.

“Hey,” the man says. “No need to get all snappy.”

“I’m not snappy,” Castiel replies, his breath pushed out of him when the shoe slips on, “I’m tired because a bear tried to attack me last night, and I thought it was intriguing when you fell from the skies, but all you’ve done so far is told me to put on clothes, pried me for answers like I was a damn travel guide, and ogled at my scarce food. So no thank you, I don’t wish to get involved in your self-reflective moment of _why haven’t I heard of countries before._ It doesn’t surprise me, though, since you thought we were in the US – so far, you’re filling every stereotype there is about the self-centered, All-American soldier boy.”

He stands up and throws the backpack on his shoulder before making a salute and turning around. Okay, he’s being ruder than he probably should, but he’s so tired now – and besides, would it be too much to ask for a _hello_ before telling someone to put their clothes on? Why couldn’t he handle a naked guy, anyway? There should be enough of them in the army, they shouldn’t come as a surprise.

He wasn’t wearing army clothes, though, so maybe Castiel read too much into it based on the gun. Who the fuck brings a gun to Etherfare anyway?

“Hey,” a voice comes from behind him. He’s not further than on the mouth of a pathway out of the clearing, but the guy still catches up to him by running.

Castiel frowns at him, then at his gun. Noticing this, he quickly hides it behind his back as if that would make the situation better.

“Uh, I was thinking maybe I could –”

Castiel doesn’t even care what’s coming next, because the guy is obviously asking for something again. He turns on his heels and walks.

It’s well into the afternoon when Castiel makes it to the river. He’s wanted to find it for a while, because it’s a good compass towards the sea; he’ll follow it for as long as possible before turning south. He watches it softly flow on his right as he walks, and he enjoys the birdsong all around him –

A splash from somewhere behind interrupts his lazy meditation. Frowning, he turns around only to see the man from before--now fallen into the river and floundering around furiously. Castiel rolls his eyes, and although every cell in his body tells him to just continue, good riddance, he walks up to the man.

Shit, he’s going to regret this later.

“Why am I even surprised?” he asks, a completely rhetorical question, and the man looks up at him. There’s fear and fatigue in his eyes already. Castiel digs his heels firmly into the ground before crouching and reaching out a hand for the guy to take. The riverbank is not high, and it’s easy to climb – especially without a damn gun in the other hand. At least he’s finally walking without it out.

The man makes it to solid ground and then just kind of stays there, on all fours, dripping water and sputtering. Castiel takes a hesitant step away, but something not unlike a nurturing instinct awakes in him--he should help the poor guy out. If he really dropped from the sky into a strange country, it must be miserable. Now he’s also wet, probably starving, and completely lost.

 

The sun shines through the leaves, giving little warmth to the man’s clothes that hang on some lower branches of a birch tree, but at least the wind is picking up. There’s a couple of hours left before Castiel needs to set up camp and he’d rather do it at the edge of the forest – but right now, he’s stuck right here, sitting on a rock, sharing his food with a naked guy, hoping that he at least gets the irony of the situation.

Something unravels in the man’s shoulders as he gets food in his system. For a while, it looks like he’s about to cry, but pulls himself together nicely before starting to talk.

“I’m sorry for, you know, earlier. I panicked a little.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“Are you going to listen to my apology or not?”

“You should put on some clothes first.” The man scowls at Castiel, who sighs. “Okay, go ahead.”

“I don’t know how I got here. It’s like I fell asleep after a – a trip I went on with my brother, and then, _bam_ , I’m here. In a strange forest, a naked guy next to me, and it wasn’t even fucking summer when I closed my eyes.” He frowns. “No, I didn’t… I didn’t even close my eyes. I was still _on_ the trip. What the hell?”

“Could it have been a demon?”

The man blinks. For some reason, he wasn’t expecting Castiel to ask this question.

“I mean, of some kind, sure. What—What do you know about demons?”

“Well, they’re mischief makers. If you angered some, they might have ruined your crops or maybe sent you here, I don’t know.”

“I wouldn’t know, it all seems so hazy and odd right now. While I was following you, I had time to think about all of this, and—”

He stops talking when their eyes meet – Castiel tries to keep his voice calm even though he’s agitated again. “You were following me?”

The guy lifts his hands in an apology before sighing. “I thought you were heading towards a place that could help me find out where exactly I am.”

“Oh, your using me as a tour guide wasn’t enough? I told you we’re in Etherfare, Elysian forests, three days from Europa.”

“But none of those places make any sense to me. I wanted to… I don’t know, I guess I wanted to learn. You weren’t exactly friendly, so I didn’t even think about asking if I could tag along.”

Castiel sighs. The guy’s right. He hasn’t exactly given him a chance yet; he’s been too frustrated with his lack of sleep.

“Okay. Alright. Listen, I’m sorry that you don’t know where you are, or how you got here. More than that, I’m sorry that you bumped into me. I’ve been traveling alone for months now, and I’m not used to talking to people anymore. Sometimes I buy items and chat about the weather, but it’s over in a second. I’m not… Socially adept, as it is.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” the man says, but for some reason, it doesn’t sound insulting at all. More like he’s _understanding_  Castiel. “I’m sorry I came on too strong and asked you questions without believing the answers you gave me.”

Castiel shrugs. “It’s okay.”

“And, uh, thank you for the whole… saving me from the river. I hadn’t prepared for a swim, those boots suck up water like it’s their job.”

“No worries. I couldn’t have lived with myself if I’d let you drown.”

_Especially when I’m traveling to save people_ , he thinks grimly.

“Fair enough. Uh, what’s your name? I realize we’ve spent more of today together than alone, and I’ve yet to put a name to your face.”

“It’s Castiel.”

The man nods, satisfied with the answer. “I’m Dean.”

“Hello then, Dean.”

A beat of silence falls between them before Dean talks again.

“Do you think… Do you reckon you could show me where the next town is? I could ask around there and maybe find my way back home.”

Castiel frowns, considering. “Are you used to traveling by foot?”

“Yeah, I guess. My job gets pretty physical, too.”

“Well, it’s one and a half more days to the nearest village. I don’t think it has a lot more than a small inn and a store, but I’d venture a guess that there’s enough people to ask.”

Dean nods towards the river. “Would following that take me there?”

“Yes, but,” Castiel starts. He’s not sure what he’s saying – maybe it’s the fact that he can feel his own worries subside when he’s got something to occupy his mind, or that talking to someone helps him realize just how silent it has been for such a long time now – but it feels wrong to send Dean on his way alone. “I’ll make you a deal. If you help me find food, I’ll walk with you. It can get uncomfortable at times, and you’ve got nothing to sleep in.”

“And you do?”

“Yes, thanks for asking. I’ve got a tent right here,” he pats his backpack that’s on the ground next to his leg now. “Plenty of space for two.”

Dean looks down at the backpack, then at the clothes that are turning lighter as condensation evaporates from them, and finally, back at Castiel.

“Alright, Castiel, it’s a deal. Let’s do this.”

 

 

Once Dean’s clothes are mostly dry, he gets dressed and they continue on their way. The sunshine is already turning golden, and realizing it’s still a good way out of the forest, Castiel picks up the pace. Dean keeps up with ease, which makes Castiel wonder what kind of a life he lived back in the US. He’d made it sound like he made these trips with his brother for his job, but what kind of jobs include traveling _and_ having to use muscles? Surely salesmen don’t do that, or lawyers for that matter. Maybe he’s a hunter? That would explain why he has scratches all over his face and body.

“Castiel?”

Castiel snaps out of his thoughts at Dean’s tone. He sounds like he’s been talking to him for a while now.

“Yes?”

“Uh, I was just wondering. I seem to have lost my phone when I… fell, or whatever. Do you think I can make a call from the village?”

“I can’t see why not. I’m sorry I don’t have one with me.”

“Why, though? If that’s a question I can ask you. Wouldn’t it be handier to use an app to plan your route?”

“No, this is something I need to do old-school. I gave up my phone when I left on this trip.”

“Wow. You know what, I’m jealous. I spend way too much time harvesting virtual crops.”

“Yes, I’ve heard that can become a problem. Maybe that’s why I never upgraded to a ‘smart phone’,” he says, making air quotes to emphasize how he doubts their true smartness. “I guess you can count your loss as a blessing in disguise, then. You can now walk free from your crop-harvesting.”

Dean laughs. “You’re right. Man, I wish I could call Sammy though. He must be worried about me.”

“Your brother that you mentioned?”

“Yes. I’m still a little lost on the details, but I think we were on a job and suddenly, it just got dark. I don’t even remember if we’d already finished the job or…”

“Demons,” Castiel says, snapping his fingers. “That’s what you do. You hunt demons.”

Dean blinks. “Well, those too. Demons, vampires, werewolves, everything that goes bump in the night. How’d you know?”

“I was just wondering what you do for a living. There’s very few travel jobs in Etherfare that also require good physical health.”

“Don’t know about good, but I can kick a demon if that’s required.”

“Do you think that poses an ethical problem?”

Castiel asks the question way too casually, but it’s a thing he can’t stop thinking about at night.

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not hunting demons,” he says slowly, carefully forming the words to not reveal too much to a stranger, “but I am on my way to do something that will banish them. Sometimes I wonder whether it’s the right thing to do, because while they do harm humans every now and then, they’re probably just doing their best to protect their own kind.”

Dean licks his lips and hums. Obviously, he’s not too sure about the answer.

“Well, I like to think that I’m protecting the weak. I’m trying to keep bad things from getting to kids, or sick people, or those who’ve already suffered enough. From what I’ve seen of demons, they do it because they wanna. They don’t need to kill humans to survive, they just wanna play games. But,” he sighs, “I see what you mean. Sometimes I think it’s a bit of a moral grey area, too. Then again, I’ve never claimed to be a good person, so. Killing these things is the nicest thing I do for people.”

Castiel huffs a laugh and hops over a root bending above the ground. “What do you mean?”

“Usually we don’t get hired to do this work, we just do it because we think it’s the right thing to do, and it’s the only thing we know how to do. Ergo, we don’t get paid. We have a friend called Charlie who hacks into corporate databases and guides some corrupted money our way.”

“And that’s the bad thing you do?”

“Yeah, well. It is stealing.”

“Wow,” Castiel says, “someone should recalibrate your moral compass. I think you’re a better person than you give yourself credit for.”

Dean snorts dismissively. “Nah. I don’t think so. Can we now talk about something else? I don’t… you know.”

“Right, got it. Not comfortable with compliments. Trust me – and this is coming from the man who both had to save your ass from the river and feed you today – I am not going to drown you in compliments.”

“Good,” Dean smiles. “So, not many traveling jobs that require physical health, you say? Etherfare has never heard of construction workers? Boy, let me blow your mind.”

Castiel laughs. “We do have construction workers, obviously. However, it’s usually more convenient to hire local people than to start moving equipment and people across the country. Besides… Construction workers rarely look like they’re coming straight from a fight.”

“You’d be surprised. Some construction workers back in the States are the real fighters.”

“No doubt,” Castiel says. “Anyway, I think we’d best set up camp. It’ll be dark in no time.”

“Sure,” Dean says with a shrug. “It’s been a while since I last put up a tent, but shouldn’t it be like riding a bike?”

“Nothing like riding a bike, Dean,” Castiel hums and tilts his head, considering. He’s not sure how many minutes more to the end of the forest; could be ten, could be two hundred. Maybe bears won’t come this close to the border and they’ll be safe.

It’s not ideal, but it’ll have to do.

Castiel further acquaints himself with his companion while working on their portable living quarters. Apart from the way he appeared in Etherfare, Dean seems like a regular guy; he spends most of his time working, too many of his hours off drinking whiskey, and too little of his overall life socializing. He tells this with an edge of something Castiel doesn’t want to chase at this point – if Dean wants to talk, he will.

Dean’s craftiness makes up for what he lacks in tent-erecting, and by the time the sun sheds its last rays through the leaves, they’re done. Castiel builds a fire in a spot that someone had used for the same purpose earlier, and it’s easy for him now. Back when he started traveling, it’d take him an unflatteringly long time to strike fire with his flint and steel. He didn’t expect to learn all of this while on his journey, and he’s not sure how he’ll return to the life he had.

Castiel feels Dean’s eyes on him and lifts his gaze from the fire.

“Everything okay?” he asks. Dean shakes his head, probably to clear it.

“Yeah! Yeah. I was just wondering about… Hmm. Will you answer me if I ask you some questions?”

“I don’t know.”

“Fair enough. I’ll just head to bed, then.”

Castiel sighs. “No, I didn’t mean it like that. I just don’t know if I want to answer your questions. I don’t feel comfortable giving you a blanket permission without knowing what you’re going to demand from me.”

“I’m not gonna demand anything, okay?” Dean huffs with a smile. “I’m just wondering about a couple of things. If you don’t answer, then you don’t. Won’t hold it against you.”

Castiel tilts his head towards Dean in lieu of an actual nod and starts digging up food from his backpack. He should have one more can of split pea soup somewhere.

“So, what gives? You’re this grumpy old traveler who doesn’t know the US exists, don’t carry a phone with you, and honestly… You don’t seem too phased with me falling from the sky. What’s your deal?”

“I don’t have a deal,” Castiel says, bringing the now-found can casually closer to the fire. “I’m on a mission that I don’t talk to strangers about, and stranger things have happened in Etherfare than you falling from the sky. As you might remember, demons are a thing now.”

“Now?  As in they haven’t always been?”

“No, they emerged a couple of years ago,” Castiel sighs. He looks into the darkening forest, wondering whether the fire he built is enough to keep any ill-willed spirits at bay. “After,” how should he put this to a stranger, “certain things happened here, hundreds of souls returned from the afterlife. Most of them were quickly sent back to their personal Heaven, but some stayed behind. Those turned into what we call demons; souls who are too far gone to be reasoned into returning to Heaven. They cause trouble in the towns and villages they once lived in.”

Dean nods with a slight frown. “It’s pretty similar in the US, except we can only assume that’s how demons came to be. They’ve just always been around. So have angels, and so have vampires, so have all supernatural entities. I reckon that hasn’t been the deal for you, then?”

“No, it hasn’t. It’s been nearly five years, and it’s been a lot to get used to. Until then, the closest we got to anything supernatural was having a priest.”

“A priest? As in, a singular?”

“Yes. We do have churches,” Castiel holds that thought while he turns the soup can around, “but they’re mostly used for silent prayer, and some of our sacristans can guide testimonials. Our priest has mostly been taking care of the Mountain, a sacred place southeast from here. That’s where sacrifice ceremonies are held.”

“Is this for a Christian god, or what’s the main religion here? If you don’t mind me asking, that is.”

“It’s a Lutheran religion, so yes. Now, our food seems to be ready. If you’re going to complain about the quality or the catering of it, you’re going to go without.”

“I wouldn’t dream,” Dean laughs fondly. “I’ve had to go without food at some point in my life, so I’ll never complain about food again.”

It’s quite a bomb to drop so lightly, but as Dean gratefully takes the bamboo plate handed to him and starts dipping a rice cake into the soup, Castiel decides they’re over the serious part of the conversation for the night.


	2. Show Me the Way and I'll Walk

Castiel wakes up to a swift shake of his shoulder.

“Cas!”

Dean is whispering, but it’s loud enough to indicate the amount of stress he’s under. Castiel opens his eyes into complete darkness – it’s not dawn yet.

“What is it?”

“I hear something.”

Stifling a yawn, Castiel rises into a seated position. He tilts his head to try and hear better, and just when he’s about to turn back towards Dean and tell him it’s nothing, there’s the tell-tale sound of a branch snapping in two.

No small branch, no small foot stepping on it.

It’s the bear again.

No, but it can’t be the same. Castiel’s walked all the way here – but, of course, it could’ve done so just as well. Last night, Castiel had been foolish enough to just open the tent zipper and then he’d been eye-to-eye with the King of the Forest. After a couple of mutual blinks, he’d retreated back into his tent and listened to the bear scavenge around outside before settling down for a nap.

Castiel hadn’t been able to sleep anymore, so he’d just laid in the tent until the bear had decided that it was time to go fetch some breakfast from a nearby juniper tree.

He’d never packed his tent faster.

“What do you –“

Castiel reaches out to fumble his finger over Dean’s mouth, effectively shutting him up. In the dark, he can feel Dean’s breath against his skin. It’s elevated enough to cause hyperventilation if he keeps it up.

He leans a little closer. “Breathe, Dean.”

“I am br-“

Castiel lets out a low shushing sound, because Dean’s still way too loud. It’s unlikely that the bear would not have heard them already, but maybe aiming for silence now would make it leave.

“Follow my lead.”

It takes Dean a while to understand Castiel’s talking about breathing, but once he starts following Castiel’s slow pattern, it’s obvious he starts to relax.

“We have to just wait it out,” Castiel mutters, his voice so low Dean leans closer to hear it, “if you can’t sleep, don’t. Under no circumstances should you go out right now. Are you afraid?”

“Yes.”

“Is there anything that I can do to help?”

There’s a beat of silence.

“No.”

“Then we’ll just lie down here. We wait for morning.”

“Pretty sure there’s two of them,” Dean whimpers, his voice almost too loud for comfort. “What do we do?”

“Like I said,” Castiel whispers. “Lie down, wait for morning.”

As Castiel fixes his position to keep his leg from falling asleep, he realizes just how close Dean is. Dean seems to realize it too, because his breathing almost stops in surprise. There’s something in the air drawing out this second, something Castiel knows he should be able to name faster.

Wondering what he’s missing, he lies down and closes his eyes.

 

Few things suck more than waking up in a tent when the sun is shining all over it. Castiel tries to breathe in but barely manages; the tent is filled with stale, humid air and before fully realizing they could still be in danger, he crawls to the door and zips it open.

Judging by the light, it’s midday. He glances around to notice not only are the bears gone, so is Dean – his boots are gone from the ground next to the tent, and, rather obviously, he’s not lying next to Castiel, either.

There’s a note, though.

_ Cas, _

_ I need to get to the nearest town as soon as possible so I can figure out how to return to Sam. Sorry for not waiting on you – I couldn’t sleep and the bears left before sunrise, so I decided it’s time for me to stop abusing your hospitality. _

_ Since we’re not likely to meet again, I’ll tell you this: Man, your eyes are the weirdest blue I’ve ever seen and if I’d hung around with you for longer, I’d probably get a crush on you. _

Castiel sighs and looks into the distance for a while.

What a weird man.

Castiel takes stock of his belongings as he packs up, and he’s not surprised to see nothing missing. Although Dean did mention stealing, he didn’t seem the type to backstab; first take advantage of Castiel’s reluctant hospitality and then steal his stuff. There’s not much to steal, though, so he really needs to get to the village today. After he’s finished packing, he unwraps a rice chocolate bar and starts walking. He’s not completely certain about the amount of time he needs to spend on the road today, but it shouldn’t be unbearable.

As he keeps walking, he notices his head returning to Dean. What made him want to call of their agreement about finding their way together? Castiel doesn’t know how Dean spent the night; he’d fallen asleep after a while of trying to mentally drive the bears away. Dean seemed kind of freaked, and Castiel did try to guide him into a gentler breathing pattern, but since that was all he could do in the imperative silence, it could be he came off as a little cold. That shouldn’t disturb a demon hunter, now, should it? He, if anyone, should know how to be with dangerous things around.

No, it probably wasn’t Castiel’s nonexistent coldness. It could’ve been what they both probably felt during that moment they noticed their proximity; after all, Dean needs to return to the US as soon as possible. His brother is probably worried sick over him by now – it makes sense he wants to rush his return. In the cold light of day, however, Castiel remembers the fleeting feeling he had at night that he couldn’t place – it was tension. It wasn’t inherently sexual tension, but a spark of  _ something could happen _ between them, there and gone in an instant. It’s been such a long time since Castiel last felt it, too…

Maybe Dean had felt it as well and that’s the reason for his odd statement about crushing on Castiel.

Brushing these thoughts aside, he focuses on his journey again. Whatever friends he left behind in Titan, his hometown, probably have already forgotten about him; he wasn’t really a social person to begin with, preferring to spend time on his own and read.

Funny that he mostly read stories about adventures.

Nonetheless, he’d become the hero once his quest was fulfilled. Everyone would want to be his friend then.

It’s a difficult thought.

It’s dark by the time Castiel sees the lights of Ariel, the easternmost village in all of Etherfare. Since it’s warm, people are sitting outside; some are drinking beer on the terrace of a restaurant, some are enjoying the view of fairy lights under blossoming cherry trees. It’s welcoming and warm, and Castiel would like nothing more than to spend the night here.

He doesn’t have money to rent a room, but at least he can set up camp a couple dozen yards away from the houses. Safety in numbers and all that; it’s not likely there’s bears here. First, though, he really needs sustenance; his backpack is completely empty, and although he does still have a little money, he wants to know if someone would like to exchange some kitchen duty into a warm meal. He’s not sure how much longer it will take to the Mountain, and if he uses all his remaining money now, he’ll be dead before he gets there.

A blessing comes in the form of a young woman called Gilda, who Castiel finds after spending way too much money on food for his backpack. She runs a small bistro and it’s not the first time she’s helped out a traveler; she gladly lets Castiel collect dishes and wash them. Since Castiel’s not tired, this hardly feels like a chore; he even chats with Gilda despite initially thinking he’d be too tired to meet another living soul until returning.

After Gilda’s closed shop and Castiel is piling up the last of his dishes in his hands, he hears yelling from the street. Someone’s angry – they’re yelling in one of the native languages of Etherfare, obviously shooing someone away. A dread settles in Castiel’s stomach as he listens to the sounds on the street; he hears some of the colorful language used toward the intruder, and there’s no way they’re not yelling at Dean. If Castiel’s not mistaken, it sounds like Dean’s pulled a gun on someone, and while that’s something he doesn’t like one bit and honestly, it kind of makes him want to leave him in trouble, he sighs and places the plates on one of the tables. He checks if Gilda is somewhere to be seen – she’s not – and proceeds to open the front door.

Dean is running, and it’s a rather comical sight. The gun is still in his hand and Castiel will have some serious words to say about it if they end up talking again, but since all he needs to do now is get Dean to safety, he does just that – letting out a sharp signal whistle, he gestures to Dean to enter the bistro. Dean takes the invitation with a bewildered look on his face and yeah, considering what words Dean wrote in his farewell letter, this could get awkward.

While Dean catches his breath, Castiel takes the rest of the dishes to the kitchen. Gilda’s just taking out the trash, so he can’t ask whether it’s okay to keep Dean around until they both leave, and so he returns to the main room and crosses his arms.

“So,” Dean says, lifting his head to meet Castiel’s gaze from where he’s bent over, resting his palms on his thighs. “We meet again.”

“Indeed we do.”

“Are you working here now?”

“No, I was trying to get some dinner. Now that I let a stranger in, I doubt the owner will be kind enough to hold up her end of the deal.”

“Oh, I will,” Gilda says slowly. Castiel’s heart jumps with surprise, and he plasters on an apologetic smile before turning around to face her. She doesn’t seem too angry, though. “I take it you’re Dean.”

“So, you mentioned me?” Dean says, finally rising up. Castiel rolls his eyes.

“You know each other already?” Gilda says. “I was out and heard people yelling. They wanted a Dean, so I just assumed. Thanks for today, Castiel. If you need to feed your criminal friend here, I’ll provide.”

“You really don’t need to do that,” Castiel says. He can hear Dean huff in disagreement, but he refuses to pay him attention just yet.

“I know, but thanks to you, I get to go home early. Besides, it would soften him to,” she clicks her tongue, “you know.” 

She’s right – Castiel shouldn’t have let Dean walk a yard in his company without first getting rid of the firearm he’s carrying.

“Oh, I see,” Dean says. “You’re softening me up for a blood sacrifice.”

Castiel refuses another eyeroll and follows Gilda to the kitchen. She quickly shows him what’s up for grabs in the fridge and the cabinet next to it, and says he can take a couple bread loaves for the road. They say goodbyes that are a little awkward since they’re not exactly friends, and then, Castiel returns to Dean.

“I don’t even know where you got blood sacrifice from,” he says with a frown. “So first, you could walk me through that.”

“Dude, it was a joke,” Dean laughs, albeit awkwardly, “but it does add up. You’re living the whole no technology, no outside contact, new age socialist life. I was thinking maybe that includes witchcraft.”

“And you instantly went for the blood sacrifice. Real class, Dean.”

“Yeah, I admit, you’ve got a point,” he sighs. “Sorry.”

“Don’t need to apologize to me, I’m not into witchcraft,” Castiel says and rolls meatballs on two plates. “However, if we were to rejoin on the journey, there’s something we need to bury.”

“Sounds promising,” Dean says. “So, uh. You made it here.”

“So did you,” Castiel nods towards Dean while scooping mashed potatoes onto the plates as well. “And how did that work out for you? Were you seriously pointing a gun towards someone?”

“Oh, hell no. It kind of fell.”

“Yes. I should’ve mentioned guns are illegal here. That’s why Gilda referred to you as a criminal, too.”

“Yeah, I kind of gathered from the amount of yelling and sudden chasing. People are intense, man.”

“Not as intense as you coming here with a gun.”

“Didn’t have a choice. I was wearing it before I was snatched into your reality.”

“So that’s what you think happened?”

“I mean, I’m not sure,” Dean frowns, hopping onto the kitchen counter. Castiel wants to chastise him for it, but maybe he needs to tone his condescension down a bit; it’s not him, and he hates that spending long days alone has made him grumpy.

“You’re not sure?” Castiel encourages Dean to continue. He places the plates on the still-warm stove and hopes they’ll warm up enough for the dining experience to be pleasant.

“Well, it makes sense, somewhat. I’ve never heard of Etherfare or any of its towns, and honestly? People live like it’s the Middle Ages here. Wait. It’s not the Middle Ages, right?”

“No, it’s not,” Castiel frowns. “There’s modern technology in most places. This village happens to have minimal, but I had both an iPad and a Mac back home, so I can assure you, if this is Middle Ages, this is a weird alternate universe one.”

“Right,” Dean brushes his jaw with the palm of his hand, “so, modern alternate universe. It would make sense if we had been hunting for a djinn.”

“A what?”

“A djinn. A sort of, uh, a dream demon, if you will. But we were hunting werewolves.”

“Hmm,” Castiel says, looking Dean up and down, deep in thought. “It’s interesting. I would like to see if your theory holds up. I mean, under different circumstances I’d probably brush this off, but like we’ve very well established by now, you fell from the sky.”

The food is somewhat warm now, so Castiel gestures for Dean to join him at a nearby table.

“I know, man. It’s not something I’m used to, that’s for sure.”

“It’s a rather interesting phenomenon. Did you find out anything before, you know, you were driven out?”

“Nothing much. Like I said, it really looks like the Middle Ages. It’s nothing too different from what I’m used to, but I still feel uncomfortable… Like something’s out of place wherever I look. I don’t know what the hell I’ve managed to get myself into, and frankly, it freaks me out a little.”

Castiel sighs, staring at his food. He fears it’s something he’ll regret, but he wants to tell Dean it’s okay for them to stick together. “Look, I know you left in the morning. I don’t know if I did something that made you want to distance yourself, but if I did, I would like to know.”

Dean blushes, clearly remembering his parting words. “Nah, you didn’t do anything. I just… figured since you were reluctant to take me along in the first place, I shouldn’t force it.”

“Okay, Dean, here’s the thing,” Castiel says, looking up and meeting Dean’s eyes. A spark, ill-timed but undeniable, passes between them. “I don’t want to be a cold person. I’m sorry I came off as an asshole, but it’s like I said, I’m not used to people anymore. Sometimes I feel like I’ve never done anything in my life before I started traveling towards the Mountain, like this is the only reality I have ever had.”

Dean nods, narrowing his eyes the slightest bit to indicate he caught the part about the mountain that Castiel didn’t mean to say out loud.

“And it frightens me, to be honest. So if you’re scared of the citizens now, you can join me on the trip and we can try to find out if you actually came from a different universe.”

“It sounds tempting at this point,” Dean huffs with a meatball in his mouth. “Although I gotta be honest with you. In addition to feeling I was a burden, I kinda was embarrassed for freaking out like that. I’ve met some serious monsters and had my life on the line more often than I’d like to admit, but I still freaked out over an animal. It was probably just because I just woke up and was immediately in danger –“

“Hey, Dean, you don’t need to explain. I’m on a quest to banish demons and the worst thing that happened to me so far was meeting a bear. I understand it.”

Dean sighs. “Thanks. I guess I’m just… so fucking stressed over everything.”

Castiel tilts his head. “I might be able to help you with that, if you have an open mind. But let’s not get carried away just yet, because there’s something I need you to do before we travel another mile together.”

“Sheesh, Cas, a blowjob? I wasn’t planning to, but if you  _ insist _ …”

Castiel rolls his eyes. “No, you gremlin. I want you to dismantle and bury your weapon.”

“What?! No way, dude.” Dean shakes his head in disbelief and Castiel can see his hand reaching for the gun already.

“That’s my condition. It’s illegal here, and you won’t need it. If it’s of value, it will be safe buried and we can dig it up again on our way back.”

“It’s not my favorite gun, no,” Dean says, gritting his teeth. “But to go with a random guy into the wilderness without protection?”

“Not without protection, you have functioning arms and legs. Besides, while I know it feels like home to you to solve everything with violence, I’m more worried for the poor animals we’re going to come across.”

“Are you mocking me again? How is that gonna help you convince me?”

Castiel manages a smile that probably looks innocent. “Look, this is why I need you. Teach me to be nice again.”

Dean gives a frustrated sigh. “Amazing. Well, since you’re the only person that doesn’t want to hunt me down at the moment, I don’t have much choice.”

“You can also travel alone.”

“I don’t think I’m…” Dean stares into the distance for a while. Castiel knows he’s having an internal battle about showing weakness – it’s not too hard to figure out – and he doesn’t want to push him. When it’s obvious he’s not going to finish the sentence, Castiel speaks up again.

“I can’t promise you we’ll find out where you came from and how you’ll get back, and I can’t promise you that’s going to be the main priority on our trip anyway. But we’re going to go to the most magical place in the country, and if there’s answers to anything supernatural to be found, they’re to be found there.”

Dean gives Castiel a grateful look before nodding. “In that case, it just makes sense. We need to stick together.”

 


	3. I'll Tell Wings and Winds to Fly

By the time the tent is set up on the outskirts of the village, they’re both too beat to utter a word and decide to call it a night. With no bears to be afraid of, Castiel sleeps like a log, dreaming of the Mountain and some creatures that are apparently djinns, and in his dreams, they’re friends instead of enemies.

When he wakes up the following morning, this time at a reasonable hour he’s sure, he’s not even surprised to find the tent empty again. He is surprised, however, to find Dean outside, slicing bread with a blunt knife, whistling like there’s no cares in this world.

“Good morning,” Castiel says, eyeing his backpack laying open. He frowns at the sight and Dean follows his gaze.

“Oh!” he says. “Sorry. I wasn’t prying or anything. I just wanted to get us some breakfast. It took me forever to realize I don’t know how to light the fire with your fancy flint.”

“My flint isn’t fancy,” Castiel groans, heading to see the damage to his precious backpack order. “It’s the most basic way of making fire. I’d appreciate if you didn’t go through my stuff, though.”

“Of course, sorry. I just…” Dean sighs. “Apparently I need to learn how to do  _ anything _ right.”

Castiel’s chest feels tight at that. It hits a little too close to home for himself, too; he wouldn’t be on this journey if he didn’t feel like doing the right thing would earn him a place to belong.

“Once I get this fire going and make us some coffee, I’ll tell you why I’m against you touching my stuff, okay?”

Dean nods, a little surprised. “I mean, you don’t need to.”

“I want to. We’re going to travel together, and you’re going to find out what I’m carrying eventually. Slice for me, too.”

“What do you think I’ve been doing?” Dean laughs. “And just so you know, I never make breakfast for anyone. This is me being grateful that you didn’t give up on me yesterday.”

“Hope you’re not buttering me up so you can start begging to keep the gun,” Castiel says.

“Oh, no. I was thinking that grove over there,” Dean gestures towards the small thicket on a hill. “Seems remote enough. That is, of course, if I get to decide where it’ll be buried.”

“Well, we’re headed that way so I can’t see why not. We can do the stress relief thing there, too.”

“Is it more breathing exercises?”

“Oh, you bet it is.”

“Wouldn’t have it any other way,” Dean hums. Castiel picks up the flint and strikes fire. Dean’s built the fire well, it catches fast.

By the time their coffee is ready, Dean has finished slicing the bread and somehow, he’s also found some chives to spice it up. With coffee, it’s really good; especially since Dean’s obvious good mood continues as he animatedly talks about his adventures with Sam. There’s words and concepts here and there that Castiel doesn’t understand, but he brushes it off as something like cultural differences. When Dean’s done talking, they fall into a short silence before Castiel clears his throat.

“So, correct me if I’m wrong but you’re somewhat acquainted with Christian lore, right?”

“Somewhat might be stretching it, but go on.”

Castiel reaches for his bag and digs in it until he finds what he’s looking for; a small cloth bag that’s heavy to the touch.

“Inside this bag, I have the purpose for my journey.” Unceremoniously, he loosens the ribbon around the mouth of the bag so the contents of it can fall out. Castiel looks around once more before explaining. “This is the White Stone.”

“I can see that.”

Castiel runs his thumb over the smooth edges of the stone. It fits in the palm of his hand perfectly, like it’s meant to be there.

“It’s the white stone that’s mentioned in the Bible. In the book of Revelation, to be exact. The quote is,  _ ‘To the one who is victorious, I will give some of the hidden manna. I will also give that person a white stone with a new name written on it, known only to the one who receives it’.  _ Coincidentally, this is also the stone that our former priest stole from the Mountain, freeing all the spirits back onto this earth.”

Dean’s silent. His eyes fall to the stone and back up to Castiel; he’s trying to see if he’s being lied to. Castiel holds the gaze solemnly, letting Dean do all the thinking he needs.

“I can’t decide whether I’m threatened or turned on by the fact that you can quote the Bible,” he eventually says.

“Not a lot. I can quote this one, because it’s quite an essential part of my life.”

Dean nods towards the stone. “Is your new name already there, then?”

Castiel frowns. “No. I… I try not to think too much into it. But it simply means that I haven’t been victorious yet.”

“Wow, well, that makes two of us.”

“How would you know?”

Dean shrugs. “Hand me the stone, we can make sure.”

Castiel frowns, looking down. He feels like he always does when he holds the stone; like he never wants to let go of it. To test himself and maybe to prove his budding trust towards Dean, he gets up and hands the stone over.

Dean frowns at it for a moment, feeling it in his hands.

“This is, hands down, the softest rock I’ve ever held in my hands.”

“It is divine,” Castiel says, matter-of-fact, and feels his fingers twitch towards it already. “It is supposed to feel like it belongs in your hands.”

Dean opens his mouth to say something, but thinks better of it. Castiel idly wonders what it would have been.

“It’s empty, though,” he then says, flipping the stone over in his hands. “Like I said, no victories here.”

“How were you so certain? Do you really think you haven’t done anything remarkable in your life?”

Dean huffs out a rather frustrated – no, pained – breath. “I think I would know if I had.”

He hands the stone back to Castiel, who forces himself to return it to the bag. Packing it back in between his stuff, he sighs. “So, this is why I don’t want people to dig into my things. This is way too valuable to lose. I used to carry it on me first, but I became neurotically afraid of losing it on every step, so it’s just better in the safety of my backpack. This, and the fact that I’m really strict when it comes to packing. I need to know where everything is or I get nervous.”

Dean nods wistfully. “Sounds fair. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable.”

“It’s okay. Now, I think we should pack up and make you uncomfortable instead. There’s a gun we need to bury.”

Castiel is happy to find out that Dean doesn’t need any more convincing. Apparently getting chased made him feel uncomfortable enough, and he takes his gun apart, piece by piece, and throws it in a hole he dug with his bare hands. Castiel helps him bury it until it looks like the ground wasn’t opened in the first place. After that, they kind of just stand there in silence.

“So, I’m pretty fucking stressed right now,” Dean says then, “would you like to teach me your breathing methods now?”

“Sure, if you’re open about it,” Castiel hums. “If you’re going to keep on mocking my method,  we’re going to stop immediately and pretend we never tried it in the first place.”

“I’m ready. Teach me.”

Castiel gestures for them to exit the copse, and they actually need to walk for a couple of minutes before finding a place that suits this morning’s purpose. Castiel climbs up on a flat, tall boulder before helping Dean along. He then takes a seat and looks up at Dean.

“Since we need to get as far as we can today, we’ll keep this short. However, we’re not moving until you’re not stressed anymore. Have a seat, please.”

Dean follows the instruction and tries to find a comfortable position. “Does it matter how I am? I’ve never been good with the whole lotus position.”

“Oh, no. Just so you’re comfortable and won’t start aching in a minute.”

“Can’t promise. Sitting on rocks isn’t usually my game.”

Castiel crosses his own legs and straightens his spine. It cracks between his shoulder blades.

“You can close your eyes or keep them open, whatever makes you comfortable. In all simplicity, we’re just here to breathe. The best way of breathing is with your abdomen; place your hand here,” Castiel places his hand on his abdomen, “and if you’re breathing with your abdomen, you will feel your hand rise and fall with your inhales and exhales.”

Dean takes a deep breath, completely with his chest and shoulders, and Castiel thinks that teaching him is going to take forever, but then it’s just like a switch has been flipped in his mind and he’s doing what he’s supposed to.

“Great,” Castiel says. He follows Dean’s hand rise and fall and wonders if a good morning has made his head soft; Dean’s hands look beautiful in the midday sun. “I know how hard it is to not occupy your mind with thoughts, and the more you try not to think, the more your mind tries to provide you with new things to consider. So, instead of trying to empty your mind, we’re going to think about colors.”

Dean levels Castiel a look. “Colors.”

“Yeah. Think about a color you associate with the stress. Not even the topics, not right now. What color is your stress?”

“Shit-brown. Could be black, too.”

“Great. Mine is a specific shade of magenta. It’s demanding, loud, and suffocating. Now, imagine yourself breathing out your shit-brown.”

Dean exhales hard.

“Nice. Then, when you inhale, imagine inhaling calming colors. For me, they’re light blues and greens, but again, you can imagine your own colors you associate with the feeling of calm.”

“Blue is nice,” Dean says, inhaling deeply. He’s closed his eyes and his face is turned towards the sun. His profile is striking even when he grimaces. “God, I can’t believe I wrote that stuff in the letter and we met again.”

“Out with that shit-brown, Dean,” Castiel says, unable to keep his smile from his voice. He can feel Dean turn to look at him, but he closes his own eyes just in time. They need to focus on this now.

There’s a spark again, and this time, Castiel welcomes it completely. It might be a needless distraction, but at least it’s a completely positive one. Then, he gently returns his focus to his breathing.

Blue in, magenta out.

He’s not even stressed, but the longer he keeps on breathing, the more relaxed he feels. Simple meditation allows him to gain perspective – all he really needs to pay attention to is here, around him. Back when he started, it wasn’t nearly this easy; he kept on getting interrupted by his own thoughts of inadequacy, and some mean words people used to describe him. Given what kind of a reputation he had to begin with, not everyone was pleased that he was chosen to return the stone.

It was never explained to him why he had been the one the church officials chose, but as soon as he found out, it made sense. The sense of purpose he’d always been longing for filled him and for the first time since forever, he’d felt like he was more than just a person that was in the way of everything important.

Blue in, magenta out.

Magenta words of not good enough, of ‘why are you always all over the place,’ of ‘no wonder people leave you.’

Blue in. Forests, mountains, hazy summer mornings, lakes, the ocean.

When Castiel opens his eyes, the sun feels brighter. He looks into the endless blue of the sky for a moment before tilting his head towards Dean.

He’s not sure if Dean has stopped staring at him at any point, or if he’s actually gotten any meditation done, but he pulls his mouth into a lazy, genuine smile before slowly looking away.

Castiel lets his gaze drop to Dean’s stomach. At least he’s still breathing right.

“This is nice,” Dean says, his voice almost a whisper. He bites his lip before continuing. “I completely forgot to be stressed.”

Castiel hums. “Dean, is that a flirtation?”

“Oh, so he  _ isn’t _ oblivious to flirting,” Dean says with a smile, “sorry. It’s kind of a thing I do with attractive people. If you’re not comfortable with it, I’ll stop immediately.”

“You find me attractive?”

“Well, no offense,” Dean gestures to the entirety of Castiel, “but have you seen yourself?”

Castiel frowns. “I do see myself regularly. It’s not like mirrors are forbidden in Etherfare.”

Dean rolls his eyes. “Forget it, then.”

“I’m joking,” Castiel says, getting up on his feet. He stretches his arms towards the sky, letting his spine lengthen, and extends them to the sides before bringing them down. “Besides, if you’re going to flirt, I would like you to follow through.”

Dean is rendered speechless, which is exactly what Castiel wanted. Well, that – and letting Dean know he’s not against his flirting… Or him. He hops down from the boulder and glances up at Dean, who’s just sitting still.

“You coming?”

That seems to snap Dean out of his thoughts. Castiel wonders what he’d been thinking about.

They travel for three days. After the initial shock has passed, Castiel’s happy to be accompanied by someone – particularly someone who can do more than just slice bread. Dean’s happy about some of the dry soups that have been mushed on the bottom of Castiel’s backpack since he left home, and with additions from bread, canned olives, and berries and fruit from nature, Castiel’s surprised to find out he enjoys eating by the fire again.

On the day after they leave from the village, the Mountain comes into view. It doesn’t look too menacing at first; however, the closer they get, the more clear it becomes to Castiel that all their strength is going to be needed for climbing. He tells Dean this much, but he doesn’t seem too phased by it – he just says that they need to ration their snacks because climbing will require more energy.

The last night on flat ground is spent in a relaxed state. Castiel and Dean lean against a rocky wall, both facing the mountain, and their stomachs are full. They’re already drifting on the border between awake and asleep, when Dean lays his head against the rock, looks up at the mountain, and groans.

“I’m not gonna lie, it feels like we haven’t leveled up enough to get to phase two in the game.”

Castiel squints into the darkness above. He’s not sure why Dean’s words feel foreign, because technically he knows what he’s referring to.

“I feel the same way,” he settles into saying. Surely there’s a game reference he can make? “Definitely feels like I’m in the outer board.”

Dean rolls his head a bit so he can look at Castiel. There’s a frown painted on his features for a while, but it gives way to a smile. “You’re a dork, you know that?”

For emphasis, Dean gently shoves him – basically, just bumps their sides against each other. It makes Castiel acutely aware of how close they are to each other.

Dean’s been keeping his flirting to a minimum, and Castiel has two reasons to explain this behavior; either he’s concentrating on the journey, like he should be, or he doesn’t want to follow through with what he’s been suggesting.

Either one’s fine, really. Castiel should just focus on his trip and save some strength for returning afterwards. Still, there’s something that pulls him towards Dean; he wonders if it’s just because it’s interesting to hang out with someone from another world, or because he’s been alone for a long time, or because there’s genuinely something he would find attractive under any circumstances.

He looks at Dean’s freckles, his long lashes and his eyes that sparkle in the bonfire light. Dean’s returned his own gaze to the mountain already, but the coy smile he breaks into suggests he realizes he’s being watched.

“So,” he says slowly, and for a while, Castiel’s sure he’s about to say something along the themes of Castiel’s current thoughts, “what’s with this mountain ?”

Castiel hums, leaning back and looking up. “It’s the only mountain here, and it has many names, some of which are lost among the years. It’s mostly just called the Mountain now, because it’s not like people will confuse it with something else. It’s not unusual for religious people to climb the route we’ll climb tomorrow.”

“So, there’s something I’ve been thinking about. How do we know that stone is the real deal? How are we sure that this is the way to get rid of the demons? I mean, I don’t mean to insult the religion of your country, but if all of this is confirmed, from the Bible verse to the stone… it isn’t faith anymore, it’s fact.”

Castiel sighs. “Well, there’s no concrete proof, but they did chase the priest that stole the stone down. He said it was God’s will that he take the stone and hide it. God had appeared in front of him on the top of the mountain and told him this. So, since it’s just one person presenting this to us as a fact, of course, there’s room for debate.”

“Do you believe it, personally?”

“I don’t know. I’ve seen demons, now. I’ve seen the many ways in which they’re not human; how they aren’t harmed by fire, or weapons, or disease the way people are. From what you’ve told me and what we’ve figured out, there’s more out there than what they eye can see. Still, a single god is something I don’t know how to approach. If anything, I've been more inclined to believe in a theory of multiple gods, divine creatures, and deities.”

Dean nods. “I haven’t given enough thought to all of it – a single god watching us from above and allowing all bad things to happen is something that angers me more than I can explain. I know there’s theories, Sammy has been explaining them to me, but there’s enough in the here and now for me to be concerned with.”

Castiel sighs. “The way up is called Heaven’s Steps. Who knows what we’ll find once we’re up there? Maybe we’ll both find God.”

“Maybe,” Dean says, stretching out his arms. Castiel thinks how easy it would be to fall into his arms right now. “But now, we need to rest. Better leave early, huh?”

“Yes. We can dine at when the sun is at its highest. It’s going to be hot up there.”

 

 


	4. Answer Me When I Knock

The start of Heaven’s Steps is actual steps carved into the mountain. They start their climb in good spirits, although a little too briskly; before it’s even midday, they need to take a break. Dean’s calf starts hurting “like hell”, and they drink cups of leftover coffee while waiting for the worst to pass. Castiel has some painkillers he hasn’t, surprisingly enough, needed during the trip, and after they’re in full effect, Dean’s all good to go.

Since the rule Castiel has heard for climbing speed is  _ you’ve got to be able to talk,  _ he breaks the silence after a while of diligent walking.

“So, how have you been doing? I know we haven’t seen anything particularly interesting that could point us towards how to get you back. You must miss your brother a lot.”

“I do, of course. Still, I’ve been trying to think of this as a good thing. Sometimes I feel our relationship isn’t healthy because we both live and work together. We do have our own rooms in the bunker we live in, but that’s pretty much how private our lives get.”

“So you’re taking all the breathing room you can get?”

“Yes, and giving him his space too. He deserves his peace to read, to take time off hunting, and maybe even hang out with this girl he likes. God, at least I hope he doesn’t spend all of his energy just to find me, although knowing him, he probably will.”

Castiel smiles, although it’s a little sad. He’s happy that Dean has someone like this in his life, but it also works as a reminder of how Castiel himself sometimes feels helplessly alone.

“And how about you?” Castiel says, guiding the conversation elsewhere. “If you don’t think about where you’re not, how do you feel about where you are?”

“It’s crazy to be here with no way of getting back that we know of, that’s for sure. Still…” Dean glances at the view spreading below them. They’re not high enough to see the ocean and the curve of the earth yet, but it’s still impressive. “It’s really beautiful out here. I don’t know what it is about the place, but between the nature, the village straight from the Middle Ages, and you… It’s something I could see myself retire to.”

“Me included?” Castiel can’t help but ask.

“Of course. You’ve been a good guide so far.”

Castiel snorts. “Right. I’ve just pulled you along for my own selfish reasons, and since the only other people you met tried to hit you with a spatula, you don’t know better.”

“Exactly,” Dean nods sternly, “glad you get it.”

They walk in silence for a moment. Castiel’s got a foolish smile plastered on his face, and he doesn’t  even fully realize why.

“So,” Dean starts then, “if you weren’t walking towards Heaven right now, what would you be doing?”

“What do you mean?”

“If you weren’t given this mission, would you be working somewhere? Are you a student? And what would you do in your free time?”

Castiel opens his mouth to answer, and then, just like with some of Dean’s stories about technology or the damn  _ United States _ , the concept escapes him. What  _ did _  he do before embarking on this journey? He thinks of a variety of professions that people had in his hometown; there was baking, and cooking, and cleaning, and tending to the ill – but none of them feel right. He feels Dean looking at him, probably already confused…

“You don’t have to tell me,” Dean says, “I was just curious. You look like a bookkeeper.”

“I don’t –” something about keeping books triggers his brain just enough for the answer to return to him. Shit – how could he forget in the first place? “I was a librarian.”

Dean laughs good-naturedly. “Well, isn’t that convenient? Reading about adventures in your free time, surrounded by books, and now you’re here.”

“Now I’m here,” Castiel echoes. He shakes his head in hopes that it would clear, but it still feels foggy. “I had a garden, too.”

“I can imagine. I would’ve been surprised if you told me you loved to hunt animals.”

“How come?”

“I don’t even know. There’s something gentle about your nature.”

“I could say the same about you. For a hunter of not animals, you’re surprisingly… soft.”

“Shit, man,” Dean laughs. “Way to see deeper into me than I’m comfortable with.”

“What’s wrong with softness?”

“Wasn’t exactly raised to be soft. It’s a story for another day, though.”

“Of course. I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I’m not. My old man’s just something I don’t want to ruin the day with.”

“That good of a relationship, huh?”

“And even worse,” Dean sniffles. “So, it’s getting hot. What about that lunch?”

Castiel’s a little off for the rest of the day. He tries to remember all the details about his work, and after breaking the first dam  _ of actually remembering what he does for a living. _ it starts to get easier. He does remember sitting in the children’s department, reading books for kids, and he remembers some of his favorite books never getting loaned out, and he remembers starting the mystery bag tradition in his library. How did all of this escape his mind?

Some of the people who’ve done the same pilgrimage have claimed that they started to hear God, and it became more intense the closer to the Mountain they got. It shouldn’t be just forgetting things and nothing else, though, should it?

“Shit,” Dean says, and it takes Castiel a moment to realize it’s because single drops have started to fall from the sky. Dark clouds loom over their heads, and Castiel chastises himself for not noticing sooner. “What do we do now?”

Castiel looks around. There’s nothing but stony steps. “We need to find a place to set up camp. It could rain all night; we should get safe. My tent’s waterproof.”

“It could be miles until we can set it up, though,” Dean says, trying to peer upwards. “I mean, I can handle rain, but we’re gonna be wet when the air gets colder, and that’s not good.”

“You’re right, but I don’t see what choice we have. Let’s keep on walking, pick up the pace a little.”

Dean nods. Castiel notices him wince when they start walking faster – his leg must be acting up again. He wishes he could do something to help, but it’s not like he can carry Dean.

Luckily, they reach an opening in about ten minutes – and as if rain was a thing that constantly plagued people during their pilgrimage, there’s a lean-to neatly placed at the corner. Grass grows rather wildly all over the opening, but it’s sunburned and dry this high up. They make a run for it, because the drizzle decides to change into a full-blown downpour at that exact moment.

They topple inside the lean-to, and instantly, Dean sits down on the wooden bench. He takes off his shoe and sock before pulling the leg of his pants up.

“Shit,” Castiel whispers. “That’s not…”

Dean looks down, bending his knee to see it better. There’s a bruise on it; a deep blue set of eerily symmetrical rings starting from the middle of his calf.

“Not what?” Dean asks. His voice is a little strained.

“Nothing like anything I’ve seen before.”

“Right. Figured. I mean, there was a slight chance that bruises just happen this way over here.”

“Yeah, that’s not the case. Can I… Give it a closer look?”

“Sure,” Dean huffs and gestures towards the bench in front of him. “Knock yourself out.”

Castiel frowns at Dean’s sudden defensive tone, but sits down anyway. It’s hard to see the bruise from this angle, even with Dean trying to bend his knee one-hundred and eighty degrees – so Castiel unceremoniously gestures him to flip over, lie on his stomach, and place his leg on Castiel’s lap.

It looks like tie-dye. Castiel gently runs his fingertip along it just to make sure it’s under Dean’s skin. Dean flinches, so he quickly retracts his finger.

“The,” Dean says, taking a break here, “touch feels weird.”

“What do you mean by weird?”

“It’s ticklish, but under the skin. I’m not sure if I like it.”

“Got it,” Castiel says, leaning closer to the skin to take a better look, “no more touching.”

“I mean,” Dean says, trying to sound flirty despite his pain. Castiel laughs gently before leaning back.

“Okay. I’m sorry, but it’s like I said. I haven’t seen anything like this ever before.”

“Why does it hurt like hell? I don’t remember hitting my leg like this.”

“Does it feel like a bruise, though? From what I gathered earlier, it was more of a stress-based pain.”

“Well, yeah. Now that I know it’s a bruise, it kinda feels like that, too. I don’t know. Shit, what the hell is going on?”

“I might have an idea,” a voice comes from the outside of the lean-to, making both of them flinch. “Hello. Do you mind if I come in? As you can see, it’s pouring.”

It’s a man – a little older than them at most, harmless-looking, a bit rugged around the edges. He doesn’t pose an immediate danger, so Castiel nods.

“Thanks,” he says, shaking some of the water off his hair with his fingers. “Sheesh, it feels like I’ve been walking forever. When did you start climbing?”

“Only this morning,” Castiel says. He gently lowers Dean’s pant leg and helps his sock back on. Dean sits up, looking absolutely mortified, and nods as a greeting.

“I’ve been on the road for two days already. Damn, this is harder than I thought.”

“You said you might know what this is,” Dean says, gesturing to his leg. He flinches again – it’s like merely remembering it exists makes it worse.

“Yes, well,” the man says, “introductions first, right? I’m Chuck.”

“Hi, Chuck,” Dean says, gesturing to his leg again. Castiel rolls his eyes fondly.

“I’m Castiel, and this is Dean,” he says. Something flickers in Chuck’s eyes, but he smiles nonetheless. Then, he gestures to Dean’s leg.

“Etherfare repels you,” he says then. “That’s it in all of its simplicity. You’re reaching the holiest place in the country, and it’s telling you that you’re not worthy of climbing the steps. You’re not from around here, are you?”

Dean frowns and looks at Castiel before responding. “No. I mean, that’s what we think.”

“He fell from the sky,” Castiel explains.

“Ah,” Chuck says, eyeing them both for a while. “Well. That’s unfortunate.”

“So, now the whole country is against me being here? What should I do?”

“I’ve only seen this once before, but luckily,” Chuck nods towards Dean’s leg again, “this is as bad as it gets. You can prove you’re worthy by making it to the top. After that, all of your pain is gone.”

“Holy shit,” Dean says. “And before that, it’s just gonna keep on aching?”

“At least it doesn’t get worse,” Castiel muses. Dean throws him an ugly stare that implies just how insensitive it was of Castiel to say this.

“Apparently so,” Chuck says. “I’m sorry. I wish I could help you somehow.”

“But the medicine helped a little, right?”

“Yeah. I guess with more pills and rest, we could survive tomorrow.”

“We’re almost halfway already,” Chuck says. “I think it’s worth it.”

“Don’t know if I agree yet,” Dean huffs. “But who knows? Maybe this’ll be the thing that makes me  _ victorious _ .”

Castiel lifts his brow and nods. “Maybe.”

Chuck is oblivious to what they’re talking about now, so he decides to dig for some food in his bag. He doesn’t seem to be carrying a large enough bag to fit a tent, and Castiel briefly wonders whether he sleeps at all. Some are known to try climbing without any sleep to make the whole experience somehow more  _ pure _ , but he hasn’t understood it himself.

Hard enough even with sleep, it seems.

The rain eases up enough for Dean and Castiel to be able to erect their tent. The ground is moist and Castiel already dreads having to pack it in the morning. They might make it all the way to the top tomorrow after all, so waiting for hours for the tent to dry feels anxiety-inducing at this point.

Chuck left after the worst passed, wishing them a safe journey before trotting away with a cheerfully whistled tune to accompany him. Castiel thinks it’s odd that he just happened to be here, just when Dean’s calf was revealed for all the world to see, and that he knew what was up. It’s too convenient to be a coincidence, but since Castiel can’t even start to decipher where the guy might have come from, he gives up on the thought.

The rain ends completely as the sun sets, and they’re again grateful for the lean-to’s existence; there’s dry wood and a campfire site for them to utilize. When Dean can sit, he’s himself again; cheerful, animated when he tells stories, and even a little flirty. He makes a nice meal for them out of canned meatballs and powdered mashed potatoes, and they talk 50’s movies while they eat. For some reason, those are clear in Castiel’s memory.

Castiel’s just falling asleep next to the embers, when Dean shakes him by the elbow. He jolts awake, opening his mouth to ask something, but Dean presses a finger against his own lips as a gesture to shut the hell up. He gestures towards the tent with a tilt of his head, and Castiel follows the instruction.

Since his eyes were just closed, it doesn’t take them a long time to adjust to the dark. Something’s moving out there – something smaller than a bear, but with undeniably big feet. Castiel squints to see better, and that’s when it comes from behind the tent.

A mountain lion.

She notices Castiel at the same time Castiel notices her, and stops – for a while, they’re both standing still, measuring each other. Everything in Castiel’s body prepares for the worst; his heart starts beating like a metronome, fast, fast, and faster, and his nervous system pumps adrenaline into his muscles. He hears Dean breathe behind him – obviously trying to calculate what to do, too – and then, it just clicks in Castiel’s head.

He’s fed up.

He’s so fed up with the mountain, all of Etherfare, the people who sent him on his way without caring if he’d make it out alive, he’s fed up with Dean’s body being rejected by the fucking mountain, and he’s fed of all the wild animals that he’s met along the way. This full of wrath, taking a long piece of wood in his hand comes automatically, and without breaking eye contact with the animal, he shoves it towards the embers. There’s enough heat in there to set the dry wood into happy flames, and then, he steps out of the lean-to, swings the wood, and yells.

His intention is not to hurt the beautiful creature, just scare her off; in this, he succeeds perfectly. The lion slinks off into the night, and Castiel listens to it go until he’s certain she’s far enough for them to be safe. Then, he kind of just collapses into the ground right there, sighs, and tries to hold back tears.

Dean’s hand is on his shoulder in seconds.

“Hey, man. It’s okay. You did amazing.”

Castiel tries to lift his gaze, but a sharp yelp from Dean distracts him.

“Holy shit, Cas!”

His head snaps up and he follows Dean’s gaze to his hand that’s still holding the firewood – his sleeve is on fire. There’s no mistaking it; it’s on fire, he’s on fire, and he feels none of it.

He’s too surprised to react, so Dean punches the wood from his hand and pats on the sleeve until it’s gone.

“You must be in a real shock if you didn’t feel that,” Dean laughs nervously. Castiel’s still staring at his hand, turning it around. It’s darkened by soot, but he knows it’s not injured even though it was just  _ in flames  _ – how the hell is that possible? He looks up at Dean, who’s looking right back, completely bewildered. Then, Castiel sighs and closes his eyes.

“So, that was intense.”

“Right? Can’t believe you just yelled at a mountain lion.”

“I was tired.”

“I could see that,” Dean says, his voice a little amused now. “Like I said, you did amazing. Considering how you reacted to bears just a couple of days ago, I’m really proud of your character growth.”

Castiel manages a laugh. “I guess you’re right. I’m just too tired to realize that right now.”

“Wanna go to the tent?”

“Absolutely, please. If you could help me up, that would be lovely.”

Dean takes Castiel by the elbow and helps him up, and they enter the tent clumsily. Castiel slumps down on his side with a heavy sigh and for a while, he feels like he’s going to fall asleep any second. There’s too much adrenaline in his body for that, though; in a minute, he sits up again and groans.

“I used to feel like that too, back when I started hunting. We’d go out on these hunts, and as soon as we saw our target, my adrenaline would spike up and I’d either make a run for it or start yelling, hurling whatever I could find towards the threat. Neither of these was very graceful, and my dad considered me kind of a failure.”

Dean’s voice breaks a little here and Castiel’s fingers twitch in an attempt to – to something, console, touch, soothe. Instead, he hums.

“Anyway. It took me years to not drain all of my energy at once. There’s always a possibility of a new attack, an ambush, you know? So if all of my energy is lost on the first attack, I can pretty much just play dead when the next one comes. Not that that lion’s gonna come back, though – you sure showed ‘em who’s boss.”

Castiel chuckles. He wonders whether he should ask more about Dean’s relationship with his father, because he probably wouldn’t have brought it up if he didn’t want to talk about it… Still, he doesn’t want to assume, and it might bring him pain. So, instead, he shares something that’s his.

“Back in the town where I’m from, I never felt like I was home. It was a foolish thing to even expect, because I was so fundamentally different from the others. Most were interested in making a good living or if not that, then fine arts, but I just wanted to tend to my garden. I didn’t care for social status in a place that valued social status, and I… I ended up trying to do the right thing by constantly pleasing other people, hoping that they’d accept me in their midst then. Of course, it was a pipe dream, and I just ended up tiring myself out.”

“You’re lonely,” Dean says slowly. “I guess in that sense, we’re similar.”

Castiel wants to say something, but because his words still aren’t in top shape after the mountain lion, he just sighs. “I wish I could say something that’d make you feel better.”

Dean reaches out his hand as if to touch Castiel, but stops an inch short of his thigh. Castiel gently takes his hand and lowers it on his leg. Then, he just doesn’t take his own hand away, which makes the situation a whole new brand of awkward; instead of a friendly, casual thigh-touch, there’s now hand-holding on a leg.

“I,” Castiel starts, not knowing how in the world he’s going to continue the sentence. Luckily, Dean takes it off his hands.

“Well, I wish I could say something good, too. But I guess right now all we can do is keep grinding. How do you feel, is the adrenaline wearing off?”

Castiel tries to listen to his body, but right now, all it feels is heavy – apart from his thigh that’s getting warm under Dean’s touch.

“I think so, yeah. I don’t think I could get up if I tried right now, though.”

“I’ll go see if the fire’s fully out,” Dean says, hesitantly pulling his hand away. “I’ll be right back.”

If Dean does return right away, Castiel doesn’t know. He falls asleep the second he’s alone.


	5. Carry No Demise

The next morning is overcast, which is a blessing -- Castiel’s head hurts after yesterday’s stress and walking in direct sunlight would definitely just make it worse. Even though they were too tired to make any serious conversation out of their one-sided statements last night, something between them feels changed; Castiel feels closer to Dean, and not only mentally. Somehow, they seem to gravitate towards each other while walking, and since it’s not unbearably hot, it’s pleasurable.

Dean’s leg still hurts, of course. He doesn’t complain, even though Castiel wouldn’t mind – he hates the thought of Dean suffering in silence just because he doesn’t want to be a bother. As he’s learning to know Dean better, he thinks that might be exactly the case, but then again… Does he know him well enough already to call him out on it?

They continue in silence.

It gets more beautiful and sunny the higher they climb. The sea, far into the horizon, comes into view as the stairs head towards the south face of the mountain. All the way up here, church personnel and officials have planted trees and bushes that are in full bloom despite the high climate; white sirens, meadowsweets, and apple blossoms paint their way as the stairs finally turn into a steady uphill pathway. Dean immediately sighs in relief, since walking’s much easier than climbing. Castiel agrees, even though he can’t relate – he’s doesn’t even feel the burn that he rationally knows should be there.

It’s surprising to find people up here. Two women on their pilgrimage are seated between the blossoming trees, and they instantly wave Dean and Castiel over. After sharing a meal between the four of them, the women continue on their way.

“How are you?” Castiel asks. Dean wipes his mouth on the back of his hand after drinking from a water bottle, and frowns into the distance.

“I’m actually thinking about the man we met earlier. Chuck. I was so overwhelmed about the situation with my calf I didn’t even realize he knew that I came from somewhere else. He didn’t seem too surprised by it, and he even said he’d seen it happen before. Why didn’t I ask him about it?” He sighs, somewhat resigned. “I’ve gone soft.”

“He was going up, too. Probably, we’ll meet up with him; there’s only one way down.”

“It didn’t look like he’d slept. So we would need to go without too, to make sure we see him.”

Castiel nods. “Then we’ll do just that. It should be easier back down; if what he says is true, you’ve proven your worth by climbing the mountain despite the pain. It’s likely we’ll run into him when he’s coming down and we’re still going up – either that, or at the top.”

“I can… Do this alone, though,” Dean continues, although his voice is a little strained, “I don’t want to force you along on a mission that could lead nowhere.”

“And what do you think I’ve been doing all of this time?” Castiel can’t help but laugh, gesturing around. “You’re up here with me, you’re hurting like hell, and even if you hadn’t already done this for me, I’d still want to help you out.”

Dean looks at Castiel, and there’s something inexplicably soft in his gaze. “Thanks, man.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

Dean gets up from the bench they’re sitting on and tries to put weight on his leg. Apparently, it hurts; he curses, sighs, and looks into the distance.

Since it’s something about the leg Castiel’s expecting, he’s surprised to hear the words that come out of Dean’s mouth. “Are you doing it because you wanted to, or because I’m one of those villagers you need to please?”

Castiel frowns. Damn him and his big mouth – Dean’s way too smart for comfort.

No, he’s beautifully smart, considerate, and kind; he wants Castiel to do this only if he’s comfortable. It’s something that’s unfortunately foreign to Castiel, and while it does make him feel that much more like pleasing him, another thought rises in him.

He wants to do what he  _ wants to do _ , even if the luxury only extends to this one person.

“To be honest,” Castiel says, “I think it’s a bit of both. Still, mostly, it’s because you’ve helped me out, fed me better than I’d ever have imagined, kept me company, and shared a part of yourself with me. If the least I can do to show my gratitude is help you find this man again, I will do it. Besides, we did talk about finding a way back for you while we’re here. Still looks like this is the place to look.”

Castiel watches Dean’s back as he stares into the horizon. His fists clench and unclench, he keeps the weight off his sore leg, and Castiel’s filled with the need to carry him the rest of the way up.

“I guess that’s a reason as good as any. I don’t wanna question your motives or anything, but I also don’t want to force you to do anything you’re not really up to.”

Castiel doesn’t know what to say, so instead, he looks up into the blossoming trees. It’ll be probably two more days until they’re gone; they’re placed here, they bloom for such a short time, and yet…

And yet Dean and he happen to be here right now, at the perfect time for them to blossom and shine and fill Castiel’s senses with happiness.

For some reason, he says this out loud. Dean turns around, a slight frown on his face, and looks up into the trees.

“I’ve never been much into the whole fate thing,” he mutters. “Have you?”

“I want to say no, because my choices in life have been ones I’ve wanted to make. Still, being here…”

Dean scrutinizes him, trying to see where Castiel’s going. It’ll probably take him a while, though – Castiel’s not sure himself. It’s follow-up to the realization that he’s safe to do as he wants with Dean around, and for the first time in forever, he doesn’t fear getting judged by the company he’s in.

“We are on a rather religious mission, that’s for sure,” Dean ends up saying, and as he sits back down next to Castiel, a spark of electricity passes between them where their skins touch. “Usually, religions are all about fate.”

Castiel looks back up. A gentle breeze passes through the branches, making some of the petals fall and fly off the cliff.

“Uh, Cas,” Dean mutters. He’s looking at the trees too, but he’s blushing. “I’m not big into clichés, either, but this conversation combined with a damn snowfall of petal leaves… Not gonna lie, it’s making me want to kiss you real bad.”

Castiel laughs – it comes out loud because Dean’s words punch the air out of his lungs. Dean’s just looking at him, completely unashamed, an easy-going smile on his face.

It could be awkward.

It’s not.

Castiel leans his body against Dean’s, stifling another burst of laughter.

“I’m not against kissing. I think it’s a great idea right now.”

“Yeah?”

“Yes, Dean.”

Dean leans forward a bit before dipping his head on Castiel’s shoulder, laughing.

“Man, I’m bad at this.”

“No, you’re not. You’re really suave.”

“Suave? Are you kidding me?”

“No,” Castiel says, placing his hand on Dean’s cheek so he lifts his head back up. “I’m not kidding.”

He brushes Dean’s lower lip with his thumb, smiling fondly before placing a chaste kiss on Dean’s lips.

Soft.

So nice.

He’s hovering there, not even an inch away, letting Dean decide the next move – while hopefully also letting him know he’s all in for a more thorough exploration. Dean takes the hint as if he’s reading Castiel’s mind and crashes their lips together, sinking his hand into the hair on the back of Castiel’s head and reeling him in completely. Castiel happily sighs into the feeling of unmistakable electricity, that spark that’s been running between them finally manifested right here, under falling apple blossom petals, on top of the world. Another breeze ruffles them as it passes, but they don’t break the kiss yet; Dean’s lips move perfectly against his own, his hands are still as if he’s simultaneously grounding him, or maybe them both, and Castiel feels  _ cherished _ . He only hopes he can mirror his own feelings back.

  


The sun is setting as they see the top. The women they had dinner with are returning from the peak and wave them a friendly hello as they pass by, and Castiel can’t help but wonder what goes through their minds. Do they feel enlightened by this pilgrimage? Did they find the answers they were looking for?

At first, Castiel can’t think of anything but the kiss. They walk hand in hand for a while, but it becomes too uncomfortable as the road gets steeper. It is tremendously hard on Dean’s leg – but he isn’t the only one that struggles.

The closer they get to the peak, the more Castiel starts to have second thoughts. He starts to feel restless; like he shouldn’t be here, like he’s making the biggest mistake of his life, like he’s not welcome. In the beginning, he had thought it was just that the road felt too sacred for him – a person with doubts about God – but the more time that passed, the more he believed it was something else. Eventually, anxiety took over everything, and all Castiel can think about is trying to come up with an excuse to turn around at this point.

Dean puts his hand on Castiel’s shoulder, gently making him stop. He tries to read Castiel’s face for a while, but after failing, he just sighs.

“So, what’s up?”

“I don’t know. I’m restless, have regrets, and have a bad feeling about all of this.”

Dean frowns. “This wasn’t what you felt before, right?”

“No, no. It’s recent. I,” Castiel runs his hand through his hair, “I don’t think I can walk up there tonight.”

“Then we don’t. We set up camp up on that lay-by and do it in the morning.”

Castiel looks at Dean, the simple determination in his eyes implying there’s no problem here, and sighs.

“What if we miss Chuck?”

“Do you happen to have something to make a note with? We can leave a note by our tent door and hope for the best.”

“Do you think he’d notice?”

“I would,” Dean shrugs, “and that’s what I gotta trust here. Besides, you’re stressed. Who knows what’s gonna happen up there? I think it’s better if we sleep first. I can make us some food, we can laugh at how some squirrels have probably dug up my gun by now.”

“I don’t know why you would laugh about it,” Castiel mumbles. “You were almost unhealthily obsessed about the thing.”

They walk the couple of yards to the lay-by and start setting up the tent. It’s routine now; Castiel doesn’t need to tell Dean which string to pull or where he’s going to need help next. It would be nice if it didn’t feel this much like it’s the last time they’ll do it.

Dean’s campfire dinner is better than ever before. Somehow, he’s saved a can of peaches until now, and although they feel gross in their mouths, they’re sweet and comforting. In addition, they have pasta carbonara, garnished with spinach Dean collected before they started climbing. They talk about the opportunity to fully live off the land, and Dean makes it sound so easy; just grow potatoes and carrots, peas and onions, beets and rhubarb. He jokes about how nicely they’d fit together, too – Castiel knows how to tend a garden and Dean knows how to cook.

They might share a tender kiss after that.

Contrary to what Castiel thought, he sleeps soundly. Maybe the fact that Dean’s arms are wrapped around him has something to do with it.

  


Castiel wakes up before Dean for the first time since they started travelling together. The sun is shining on the tent, making it hot and humid, and Castiel feels a special kind of nausea, adjacent to being about to pass out from heat, or dehydration, or both. He opens the zip of the tent and inhales cool mountain air before crawling outside. His feet are bare; the stone under them is cold and it does wonders for how he’s feeling. He walks to the edge of the lay-by and takes in the view below.

From here, he can see the world. Well, maybe that’s not entirely true, but considering how he can follow the river to the east, see Europa, and the Elysian forests, all tinted in a light green of the morning… It’s hard to think of it as anything less than the whole world. It’s been his home for such a long time, and he’s grown fond of it. Sure, there have been times when he’s wanted to leave, but they seem fleeting now.

As he keeps thinking about his past, he starts to realize there’s not much missing anymore. He remembers his time at school, the awful year he had to make ends meet by working at a gas station. His first love feels like ages ago, but there all the same; how he’d loved Meg, enough to ask her to marry him – she said no, but it might have been because they were eleven at the time. He even remembers his parents; his distant father, his cold, calculating mother – the people that made him lose faith in love for a long time.

Why is all of this coming back to him now? It doesn’t feel right in the same way that climbing up doesn’t feel right. There’s a puzzle here to be solved, and Castiel’s afraid to think too deeply into it, because he knows that the second he sees the whole picture…

He’s not sure he can bear it.

The wind brings the scent of coffee far before Castiel heads back to the camp. Dean’s whistling to himself while dicing bread into croutons. It’s a little too chipper, and Castiel appreciates his wanting to keep the mood light.

“Good morning,” Castiel says. “Sorry I didn’t make any coffee.”

“It’s alright,” Dean replies with a dismissive gesture of his knife. “I was in the mood for some.”

“Hope you made enough for me.”

“Sure did.”

Castiel pours them both a cup and sits down on the log placed next to the fireplace by whoever takes care of these lay-bys. He watches Dean toss the croutons into a salad and wonders again whether they could sometime, maybe, have a future together.

But first, they need to climb the rest of the mountain, and face whatever’s waiting for them.

“What do you think is up there?” Castiel notices himself asking. Dean frowns slightly while parting the salad on two separate plates. He brings the plate to Castiel before replying.

“I don’t know, to be honest. I’ve got to admit, though, that something here’s giving me the creeps.”

“The atmosphere is foreboding, yes,” Castiel admits. He looks down at his plate. “Where did you get the greens from?”

Dean gestures to the row of bushes behind their tent. “There’s a small garden in there. Said it’s up for grabs for those doing the pilgrimage, and yeah, I know we’re not technically on one but I think the savior of all Etherfare deserves a good breakfast before, you know, saving everyone.”

Castiel hums. “I wish it was this simple.”

“So, apart from your gut feeling, what makes you think that it isn’t?”

“I can’t say. I just can’t shake the feeling that something’s horribly wrong. If not with what’s going on up there, then what’s going on with me.”

Without missing a beat, Castiel shares his fears. He tells Dean about how he shouldn’t have forgotten that the United States exists, or any of the other things that have escaped his mind. He tells him how it’s all coming back to him now, and instead of feeling relieved about it, he feels dread; like someone’s filling him in with how patched his memory has been before climbing up here.

“Might be something divine? I mean, if there’s holy things up there and all, they might be healing their hero.”

“You sure believe I’m something to be applauded.”

“I mean, aren’t you? I think you’re trying to sell yourself short for nothing.”

Castiel just shrugs, because frankly, he doesn’t know what to say. People have always let him know that he’s not good enough, and someone praising him not only doesn’t sit right with him, it also makes him doubt Dean’s words. It’s unfair towards Dean, so instead of challenging him about it, he changes the subject.

“So, Chuck wasn’t here last night?”

“Or he didn’t see the note. Can’t say.”

They fall into a silence that’s a little uncomfortable. With a heavy sigh, Castiel gets on his feet and starts packing up their things.


	6. Show Me the Face of God

Midday sun blazes from a clear sky as they finally set their feet on the peak. The name is a little deceiving, though – there’s still a good fifty meters of mountain left upwards, but it’s too steep to climb. That’s not what catches Castiel’s attention, though.

He hadn’t really put up any expectations for the place. Pilgrims rarely are willing to talk about mundane things such as architecture, because most are far more interested in explaining their spiritual journey. So it surprises Castiel that it’s not all flat stone and a view of the world, but an actual plaza. The plateau is paved with marble that feels cool despite the sunshine when Castiel takes his shoes off.

There’s statues of the most renowned priests of Etherfare here, and a little altar to the south-bound side of the open space, but the centerpiece is definitely a large fountain. Because there’s a man kneeling by the altar right now, Castiel heads for the water.

“How does it even get up here?” Dean whispers as he watches Castiel dip his fingertips. “Also, is it some sort of holy water? Are you supposed to be touching it?”

Castiel shrugs. “I don’t see signs here, apart from the one that prompts us to leave our shoes at the nonexistent door. Besides, there’s cups placed on the other side of the fountain. We’re allowed to drink.”

Dean starts circling the fountain towards the cups, running his fingertips on the marble edge as he goes. Castiel briefly thinks that he’s beautiful, but then he’s consumed by worries.

He feels anticlimactically the same as before. No revelations have come to him upon making it up here, and he knows even without looking at the stone that it remains empty for him; walking through Etherfare and climbing up here has been a breeze for him. Does that mean that he was the right man for the job?

“Cas, you should see this,” Dean calls. He has to shout to make his voice audible through the water falling from the fountain, so Castiel walks to the other side before asking about it.

Dean points towards the center pillar of the fountain. There’s ornate carvings here, different shapes and patterns Castiel doesn’t recognize but knows are holy –

And then, there’s a space in the middle of it all; an oval-shaped hole that Castiel knows even without checking is perfectly the size of his stone.

“So that’s where it was stolen from,” he mutters. “It makes sense. These other patterns are Biblical too.”

“Yeah, I… Could’ve guessed,” Dean says, his voice a little forced. Castiel knows without asking that it’s because he’s humbled in a place like this, and honestly, who wouldn’t be? It doesn’t take believing in a God to see how beautiful, ornate, and sacred this place is.

Castiel drops his backpack off his shoulder and turns it so he can dig up the stone.

“I wonder what it’s been attached with,” Dean mutters with a huff of laughter, “should’ve brought superglue.”

“Yes, it’s exactly what’s holy enough for it,” Castiel scoffs. He drops the stone in his hands and turns it around just in case it’s decided that a carving is necessary at this point, and sighs.

“Anything?”

“Oh, no. I didn’t expect it to have anything. Do you want to try?”

“Considering how relatively easy it was to get up here, I would be surprised if –”

Dean falls silent the second the stone touches his hand. He wipes his other hand over it, glances at Castiel, and frowns.

“Did you do this?”

Castiel drops his gaze to the stone. It remains smooth. “Do what?”

“The carving. The – The word.”

He shakes his head. “I did nothing. As you saw, it was empty when it was in my hands.”

“Huh,” Dean says. His voice sounds thick, and when he looks into the distance behind Castiel, there’s the glimmer of tears in his eyes.

Castiel nods, mostly to himself. It makes sense. Dean’s done amazing; he’s struggled on his way here, been in pain and rejected by Etherfare. He’s pushed through, found his place in this completely foreign country, and made Castiel’s journey easier.

He’s victorious.

“You joked about it, you know,” Castiel whispers. “That you’d become victorious if you kept on climbing.”

“I did, didn’t I,” Dean says. “God. I never thought… What does this mean? Do I need to start praying to God now? Do I need to repent my sins?”

“No, I don’t think so,” Castiel says. “You’ve now received your name from… From God, or whatever deity it is up here. It means you’ve gained a place in them and that you won’t be cast aside. I think this is a blessing.”

“Do you believe in blessings, Cas?” Dean asks. “Because I swear –”

“So, you made it,” a voice says next to them, and much like last time when they were surprised by a third party in the discussion, it’s Chuck now, too. Castiel realizes he’s the man who was praying at the altar earlier. “How are you, my brothers?”

“I just –” Dean says, frowning at the stone in his hands. Chuck looks at it, completely unfazed.

“You got your true name?” he asks.

“How do you know about that?” Castiel asks him in return. “It’s not common knowledge.”

“I know everything,” Chuck says.

“Geez, enigmatic much?” Dean snorts.

“It’s true,” Chuck continues, his voice a light note that makes Castiel uncomfortable. His stomach turns as he realizes that whatever’s going to happen next, it’s going to be exactly what he was dreading earlier. “I am the All-Knowing.”

“Good for you,” Dean says. “Hey, while we’re on the topic of knowing, do you happen to know how to get me back to the US? Any pointers towards the closest airport, or in case this is an alternate reality, a teleport?”

Chuck shakes his head, his eyes a little wide. Castiel probably mirrors the expression, since even in his opinion, Dean’s being awfully talkative considering how authoritative Chuck is sounding right now.

“No, you don’t get it. I’m the All-Knowing. I’m the Word. I’m the Beginning and the End. I’m what you’ve come to see on this mountain.”

Dean looks at Castiel, who hopes his expression is enough to let Dean know how lost he feels right now.

“So,” Dean says, grimacing, “God?”

Chuck nods. “If that’s what you want to call me. To answer your question, getting you back is very simple. Castiel here just has to put the stone back into its place.”

Castiel frowns, crosses his arms, widens his stance. “Is that so?”

“You seem defensive, Castiel. Am I not what you wanted to find on the top of this mountain?”

“Honestly?” Castiel wonders how to phrase the sentence without sounding too malicious. “It rings a little untrue. After just climbing up this mountain, just… God? Up here? Waiting for anyone who stops by?”

“Oh, no. Not anyone,” Chuck says, wiggling his finger in a gesture that’s a little unlike him. “Just you, Castiel. Dean happened to come with you, so now you both get to see me.”

Castiel glances at Dean, and the stone he’s still holding in his hands. Does God think of Dean with a different name now?

“But I see you do doubt me. That’s very good, Castiel. Never trust a false prophet. However, I am the Almighty, the Omnipotent, and if there’s something I won’t do is perform circus tricks to prove myself.”

“How convenient,” Dean sneers. “What a good excuse to keep us from asking.”

“It’s no excuse. Now, Dean, what do you think of your new name?”

Dean cups his other hand and places it on top of the stone, hiding it. “God would know what it is, now, wouldn’t he?”

“Oh, sure. But since it’s only meant for your ears,” Chuck nods towards Castiel.

“I don’t care,” Dean says. “The name’s a load of bull, anyway. So go ahead, say it. If you know what it is, I’ll either think you’re really good at party tricks or believe you’re the Omnipotent or whatever.”

“It has to come from your lips first, Dean,” Chuck says, his expression almost sorry now, “but I can give you this much; It’s a seven-letter word, starts with a B.”

Dean blinks. Castiel takes a step towards him.

“Is he right?”

“Well, yeah,” Dean says, peeking at the stone. “You saw it, didn’t you?”

Chuck extends his arms to the sides, giving Castiel a pointed look of See? Waste of time.

“Now, I’m not here to talk about you, Dean, as good a child as you have been. I’m here to hear Castiel out. How was your journey?”

Castiel looks away, thinking for a moment. “Easy.”

Chuck nods. “Any idea why that would be?”

“I don’t know. I mean, there were some wild animal scares, but physically… It’s been completely painless.”

“Of course.”

“Are you going to tell me you’ve blessed me all the way up here?”

Chuck blinks. “Oh, no. Quite the contrary, Castiel. You’re dead.”

Castiel opens his mouth to say something – to argue, to yell perhaps, but all that comes out is a whiny exhale. He crouches down because suddenly, he feels faint; he presses his hands against the marble floor, inhales blue, exhales magenta.

“That’s why I feel nothing,” he whispers. He wants to deny it, deny it louder, but all of his doubts manifest into words. “That’s why I didn’t notice my hand was on fire.”

He looks at Chuck, who nods. There’s no sign of sadness, or empathy, on his face. There’s just cold.

Castiel doesn’t want to look at Dean, because he knows he’d be the exact opposite.

“That’s right. All of this,” Chuck gestures around them. “You’ve made all of this. All of these people, this quest you’re on. You’re repenting. You’re making amends. You’re trying to prove that you’re useful so you could leave Etherfare – that’s an anagram for hereafter, and your brain made it all by itself – and ascend to Heaven.”

Chuck falls silent as if he’s waiting for Castiel to catch up. He’d prefer for him to just continue and get on with it; give all the information to him at once so he can adjust around it.

“This is purgatory,” Castiel says then. He’s in no shape to stand up, so he sits down.

“Yes, you could say that,” Chuck says, running his fingers along his beard, “and when you put the stone to its rightful place, it ‘returns the runaway souls to heaven’. That’s you, Castiel. You’re the one who’s leaving this place.”

“So I’ve made all of this up?”

“Yes, like I said.”

“Did I –” please, don’t let this be true, “did I make Dean up, too?”

“Yeah, I would like to know. I mean, I don’t wanna make this about me or anything, but I feel pretty damn real. I even have memories.”

For the first time, Chuck seems a little troubled. Castiel sees how he tries to calculate his options, which in itself gives Castiel a morbid sense of hope.

“All I know is that you’re going to disappear when Castiel places the stone in its place.”

“I don’t know why I’d do that, though,” Castiel says. “The only takeaway from it is that I’ll disappear. Maybe I’ll get to heaven, but I might also not, right? I don’t believe in hell, but I could also just… not exist after leaving purgatory, right?”

Chuck shrugs. “Right. However, if you don’t do it, not only do you keep Dean here forever, in a state of wanting to find his brother and make his way back home… You’ll also know you’ve made all those people living in the villages of Etherfare. Doesn’t that trouble you? You’ve made the people that bully you, the people who commit crimes, and even the truly sick, twisted citizens. You’ve made them into existence, if only in here. Do you reckon you’re up for the task of keeping them happy? If not, why? Are you ready to be god?”

No, he’s not. He’s not ready to be a creator of living, breathing things that’ll never be truly independent. He’s not ready to play the puppeteer while people around him suffer.

He’s not ready to keep Dean here.

“I’m afraid,” is what he manages to say. “What if I just—”

“Cas,” Dean says. There’s something in his voice that makes Castiel look at him.

Oh, he’s crying.

Dean sits down in front of Castiel. He puts the stone to the side and takes both of Castiel’s hands in his own. For a while, they just look at each other – Castiel can’t believe it’s such a short time since they shared the most beautiful kiss in the history of Etherfare.

How fast things change.

“So, this is what’s going on,” Dean says then, tilting his head towards Chuck that’s still standing a couple of meters from them. Castiel huffs a laugh and nods.

“I don’t know if I believe in any of this.”

“Me neither. But I wanted to say… Shit, I didn’t plan any of this. I planned to take you back down the mountain, find an inn and have my way with you.”

Castiel can’t help but snort. “Is that a thing to say in front of a man that might actually be God himself?”

“Don’t know, don’t care. What I want is to tell you that if, for some reason…”

Dean sighs. Castiel breathes in and out slowly, reminding Dean of what he taught him, and after a minute, Dean follows the rhythm of his breathing.

“Okay, Dean. Out with that shit-brown.”

Dean hums. “If for some reason I return home to Sam, I will find you.”

“I’m dead, Dean.”

“I don’t care. I will find you. We’ll find you. If you think I won’t rummage through all of heaven in search of you, you obviously don’t know me that well.”

“I don’t know you, Dean. Our time together has been so much less than I’d wanted.”

“Same,” Dean sighs.

Castiel feels like his insides are melting; out of admiration for the man in front of him, or out of fear, he cannot say. It’s an absurd moment to have.

“Besides, I don’t even know your name,” he blurts, mostly to distract himself.

“You won’t believe what my new name is,” Dean says, trying to restrain his enthusiasm but it’s there, all over his face. “It’s such a cliché you’d laugh me into tomorrow.”

“Try me.”

“It’s Beloved.”

Castiel nods, slowly, mostly to keep tears from flowing over. “It suits you. It’s what you are, by so many.”

“I don’t feel that yet,” he says, frowning down at the rock. “But I’ll find you, so you can totally fall in love with me and prove to me that it’s the right name.”

For some reason, it makes Castiel feel a little lighter. Forcing the magenta of fear out of his system, he inhales the blue-green of trust.

It’s going to be alright. Whatever happens, it’s going to be alright.

Castiel gets back up on his feet and faces Chuck, who raises his eyebrows in surprise.

“So, what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to return the stone. Was I the one that stole it in reality? In that case, I’m sorry.”

“This is all purely symbolic,” Chuck says, gesturing to the fountain. “You will symbolically end your journey here. No stone has been stolen in reality. But then again, who knows? Maybe this is the most real reality will get.”

“God is an enigmatic asshole,” Dean says. “Gotta remember to tell Sam that.”

Chuck has the nerve to look a little appalled. Then, he gestures to the stone on the ground. “Alright, then, Castiel. Are you ready?”

Castiel sighs.

He’s not ready. He doesn’t want to disappear. He feels he’s only getting started on his life; for the first time in a long time, he has plans for the future. He doesn’t even know which parts of his past are true.

Maybe he’ll never know.

“One more thing,” he says as he picks up the stone. “Why did I start to remember everything just before getting up here?”

Chuck frowns. “I don’t know. Why would I know?”

“Because you’re, you know, the Omnipotent.”

“There’s a lot of coincidence in this world,” he says, and Castiel hears Dean groan. Despite the situation, he smiles.

Castiel rolls the stone in his hand, over and over, frustrated with how it stays empty until the very end. He takes a step into the water of the fountain, shivering at the cold.

“Wait,” Dean says, his voice suddenly fond. Castiel turns around and when Dean offers a hand for him to take, he happily obliges. They kiss once more, not lingering on it, but Castiel is still filled with warmth and promise.

“For the road,” Castiel hears himself saying. Dean nods.

“See you in a bit.”

Castiel nods and turns back towards the pillar. He walks up to it, and his hands shake as he lifts the perfectly symmetrical stone against the hole on the surface.

Just before he lets go of it, it flashes gold – and a word appears, carved in beautiful, ornate writing on the surface.

Then, it’s dark.

Sam’s pretty pissed.

It makes sense. After finishing up the hunt, they’d gone through some of the stuff that was in the mansion. Sam had found loads of interesting books he’d wanted to carry to the car immediately, and while he was gone, Dean had found this… Satchel. It was placed in the middle of a detailed circular sigil, and filled with herbs and what looked like amulets. They gave off the weirdest smell Dean had ever come across.

So of course, he’d walked right into the trap and sniffed it a little.

While Dean was gone, teleported into fucking purgatory with a powerful spell, Sam had worked his ass off. He’d found a witch that would help him out after getting paid enough, and she’d told him that there’s a curse that can be formed using the ingredients in the satchel and the sigil on the ground. Someone had wanted someone gone, and Dean just pushed his nose in the middle of it all, and been thrown into purgatory, just like the original victim of the curse.

Because he ended up in Castiel’s purgatory, the curse had undoubtedly been meant for him. Why someone hated Castiel so, it’s hard to say -- but it’s intriguing to think how their timelines had overlapped in a way that they both were at the same place at the same time. It makes him a little sad, too; what if they’d met outside the mansion and decided to go for a cup of coffee as soon as the hunt was finished?

Too late for second-guessing.

After the morning on top of the mountain, Dean had woken up at the bunker. Sam had been in the kitchen with Eileen, who he’d grown  _ really _ fucking fond of while Dean was gone.

It’s good.

It’s shit, because it reminds Dean that he actually might’ve lost the first person in a long time he could imagine falling for.

It might even be a little late to start falling now. He’d literally fallen into Castiel’s world, and probably never really stopped.

For the first two weeks, all he does is google the name Castiel. He finds nothing, obviously, except for sites about angels that, after half a bottle of whiskey, sound too apt. Castiel was an absolute angel.

After Dean got the name on the stone, he almost told Castiel as much. He almost said  _ “Do you believe in blessings? Because I’m pretty sure you’re one.” _

Fuck, he’d gone soft in the head.

He absolutely refuses to admit, but he cries at night. Mostly he’s just so tired, but sometimes, he misses Castiel, too. He misses simple times at the campsite, misses kissing the living fuck out of him, misses that they never had a fair chance to know each other.

After two weeks, he tells Sam about Castiel. They look for him together. They find nothing. Dean can’t bring himself to tell Sam that God is an enigmatic asshole, but when they try to figure out a way to get to heaven, he realizes that at some point, he’s gonna have to do it.

All leads go cold. They hunt when they can, and look for clues when they don’t.

Time passes.

Then, on a summer morning, there’s a knock on Dean’s door. Dean lays on his bed with his eyes open, unable to either sleep or be awake.

“Dean,” Sam’s voice comes through the door. “There’s a call for you.”

Dean frowns and swings his legs until his feet hit the ground. Even though his leg has long since stopped hurting, he still limps a little.

“Who is it?”

Sam shrugs. “Traced the number to California. Could be anyone.”

Dean pads to the kitchen and picks up the phone where Sam’s left it against the flowered tablecloth.

“Dean,” he says, only barely able to keep himself from coughing. His throat is thick.

A sigh on the line. Even before he says something, Dean knows who it is.

“Oh, thank god,” a gravelly voice comes through the speaker. “You’re alive.”

Dean smiles. “Thank  _ who _ , now? That self-obsessed asshat?”

Castiel laughs. Dean closes his eyes and lets the sound sink into his ear, his bones, his heart.

“And you? Are you alive? Where are you?”

“I’m in Los Angeles, Dean. It’s too loud. I’m at my sister’s… I woke up here.”

“Holy shit. We need to catch up,” Dean says. He eyes the room until he finds the car keys on the side table. “I could drive there.”

“You’ll… What? With a car?”

“Unless you prefer walking here.”

Dean can almost hear the eye roll.

“Walking hurts now, Dean.”

“Good! That’s great to hear. Give me the address, now. I’ll come get you.”

Castiel hums. Dean’s heart skips a beat out of sheer happiness. “Okay,  _ Beloved _ . See you in a bit, then.” 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Come say hi at [Tumblr](http://starespressos.tumblr.com) and remember to give lots of love to Aceriee [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19230373)
> 
> And yes, in case you wondered; It's no accident we don't get to know Castiel's True Name. ;)


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